Case Study 79: "The Golden Ticket"

Glamour.  I've been thinking a lot about it lately as I settle into the Manhattan life I've been creating for myself.

It's a bit more decadent here in New York - a little excessive at times and a hell of a lot more luxurious just by nature alone.  Swanky cocktails in classic Manhattan bars are quickly followed by dirty late night underground dance parties and white truffle pizza at 2 AM.  We are surrounded by more forms of art and culture and diversity here than I could ever imagine, even coming from another large city.  And for Christ's sake, half the time I get my groceries delivered now, and I can't even tell you about the wild goods that can arrive at my doorstep.  With this all, I am reminded of that famous quote by Kate Moss when she said "My mum used to say to me, 'you can't have fun all the time,' and I used to say, 'why not?'. Why the fuck can't I have fun all the time?"  

 

Making life extraordinary.  Over the past few years, I'm finding  that this is one of my golden rules.  Adding a little extra effort to make the everyday a bit more fantastical, in even the simplest of ways, brings a bit more fulfillment to my life.  That is what New York City has been for me so far.

"The Golden Ticket" is a chocolate cupcake with golden dust encrusted hazelnut buttercream.  It's an over the top, sparkling and glamorous addition to an otherwise dreary winter weekday, and that's what makes it absolutely spectacular. 

 

Fellini, master of fantastical cinema, believed that all that we create in our lives is autobiographical- that even the pearl is the life story of the oyster.  In the end, the lives that we make for ourselves- the people we are surrounded by, the journeys we embark on, the lifestyles we fashion- are worth only the value of what we want the pages of our life histories to say.  For what it's worth, I hope mine reads that no matter what came my way in life, I loved and I lived, and most of all, I really made it fun.

Notes from the Field: "How to Make Friends at Work"

Step One: Bake one dozen delicious vanilla cupcakes.

Step Two:  Bring cupcakes into office on a Friday at new job.

Step Three: See how many new friends you made.  I can count one dozen.

Case Study 79: "The Dauphin"

In a cavernous Connecticut bistro, filled with cellar stone walls and bottles of Sauternes...

On the Upper East Side, accompanied by mostarda, compotes and full-bodied squeals of delight...

On a sunny riverbank of Toulouse with one hand wrapped around mon amour and the other around a glass of rosé champagne...

Two nights in a row last weekend alone.

It is a fair statement to say that I am part of a completely, utterly and obsessively wild love affair with foie gras. And though I cannot remember when I first tasted the flesh, I can declare with confidence that I never forget a good foie experience. 

With oysters and truffles, this petit delicacy makes up my most holy food ménage à trois. I've always reasoned that my affinity for these fares deals with a theory of essences alone: in the oyster, I taste the sea, in the truffle, the musty earth, and in the liver, the body of life.


"The Dauphin" is a dark chocolate cupcake filled with sour cherry compote and topped with a whipped foie gras chantilly and a slice of almond brittle. Light and moist, yet rich and earthy, it is the ultimate of tiny cakes.  In the nineteenth century, English writer Sydney Smith stated that his idea of heaven was “eating pates de foie gras to the sound of trumpets.” I'd say that sounds about right to me.

  

When I began "The Cupcaketologist" over two years ago, I had envisioned it not only as a chronicle of my foray into self-discovery through baking, but also as a diary of my culinary growth.  I've always considered my case studies less full of kitsch and more full of flavor; true testimonials of my hunger for life, through travel and experience. 



For me, this is a cupcake two years in the making.  The table Cupcaketology has now been set for a different kind of occasion: cupcakes for the super gourmand.  Will they be for the faint of heart?  I'm not certain.  But what I do know, my friends, is that we can only go up from here.

Case Study 78: "The Hummingbird Cake"

Twenty-ten was a year of changes.  It started off with setting goals, and ended with reaching them.  It took me to run and play in England, and enjoy a summer of sun in New England.  It had me making choices, working hard and trying my best to be patient. I said goodbye to some people, places and a few immediate dreams in exchange for ones that were more realistic and healthy for the time being.  I had moments of creativity that scared me. 

At the end of the summer, I let go.

In the fall of twenty-ten, I made a big move and tried something new.  When that didn't feel right, I made a decision that was scary, but I knew I'd be fine.  Maybe I'd be better.  I buzzed around a new city, made new friends, spent precious time with my family and got the break that I finally needed after three years of working. 

In the winter, things fell into place. 

They say that the origins of "The Hummingbird Cake" are unknown.  It appears to be a mostly Southern thing, and the recipes were a good way to use the bits and pieces, the not-so-necessarily-perfect-together things that you already have to make something sweeter.  And in a way, isn't every good year a bit like that?  The components might not make much sense in their hours, days and months, but in the end, things fall into a place. 

I have high hopes for twenty-eleven.  I'm excited to see what a year of growth can foster in a year where things seem to be set up where they belong.  It's been a long time getting to where I've been going, but it feels like this is right where I'm supposed to be. 

PS: As a new career begins, cupcakes will likely be scarce around here.  Follow my other inspiration and adventures over on The Cupcaketologist Tumblr.

Notes from the Field: Busy Elves

This holiday season has been BUSY.  And while I can't claim to have done a great job at reporting it, I've seen numerous orders go out in the past weeks.  Some of the delightful confections that hit the doorsteps of New Yorkers this December include:

Chocolate cupcakes with a whipped peanut butter buttercream, hidden banana slice and milk chocolate dip...

Burnt sugar cake with salted caramel buttercream...

New York Cheesecake cupcakes with a vanilla cake nestled in a graham cracker crust, cream cheese buttercream and homemade cherry topping...

 

Lemon poppyseed cupcakes with cream cheese frosting and homemade sesame cookies on top...

And good ole' double vanilla cupcakes.

Needless to say, the elves have been busy. 

What have you been baking up in the past few weeks?

Case Study 77: "The Salty Fig"

I'm sorry, I'm sorry and I'm sorry.

I just couldn't help myself.

Two things:

A) If you invite me to a party, a lunch, a dinner, or a brunch, I will bring cupcakes.  Whether it be an appetizer or a side, regardless of what you ask me to bring (I'll likely bring that too), that dish, but in cupcake form, is what you will get. 

B) These cupcakes are dirty. Naughty even. Shield your eyes.  Close your mouth.  No wait, maybe open it.  I took my favorite cupcake recipe and changed one thing: I candied an Italian meat.  And not just any meat.   

That meat.  

Fluffy honey cupcakes topped with a creamy goat cheese buttercream, a fresh California fig and a slice of candied prosciutto.

So now that we've got that out there....forgive me?

Notes from the Field: "How To Deal with a Picky Eater" or "Payback's a Bitch..."

 
Never did I ever think that at this point in my life I'd be writing about how to feed a child.  But last week my mother came to me with a dilemma.  As he nears two years old, my nephew, love of my life, has decided that he's just not that into food.   What kid doesn't love to eat?  I thought.  I mean, I had to be denied food as a kid.  Hell, I requested baccalà at a big family party at 15 months because I thought it looked good.    

And that's when I remembered that when you're little, and you upset your parents, they use that line: "Just wait to you have one of your own." My nephew, like his parents, is brilliant.  He is compassionate and loving, with the curiosity of a little engineer and the timing of a comedic actor.  But for him, being a fusspot does run in the family.  Legend has it that at the turn of the 80s, my big brother so abhorred food that the only way they could get him to eat it was to make French toast, cut it up in shapes, rearrange it differently and call it "English toast."  And he still had one over on them. 

Baby can not live on O's alone.  He needs greens, fiber, protein and more, conveniently hidden in something fit for his little wandering hands. Sounds like a perfect recipe for a muffin.  Carrots, apples, zucchini, bran, yogurt, agave, eggs and flax are just some of the healthy goodies inside these little "cakes." They're just sweet enough for little tastebuds, and pack the punch of all the food groups.  


George Bernard Shaw said "There is no love sincerer than the love of food."   I look forward to the day when baby, like his father, finally decides he likes food.  We'll teach him about the finer delicacies, the worldly fares and everything in between.  But for now, let's just get him to eat his veggies.   

The Cupcaketologist Bloggoversary!

I somehow got too caught up in the mix to remember that mid-October marked this blog's two-year anniversary!  It's amazing to look back and see the start of this journey, the turning points and where we are today.

Thanks for reading, and here's to many more adventures in cupcaketology ahead!

Case Study 76: "The Pumpkin Seed"

Lately, I have been on the move.  I head uptown on foot, I hop over to Brooklyn on the subway, and I drive through Spanish Harlem to leave the city. I see a man in a suit closing his iron gate under an overflowing window box on 82nd Street.  There are children playing in the sidewalk beside mothers on stoops on 126th.  There's an overcurated flea market on Lafayette with lobster rolls, asian hot dogs, and street style gamines searching for a ready camera. I keep my eyes open and I don't want to miss a thing.  And yet, no matter what I see in the diverse neighborhoods I pass through, I keep thinking about one thing: the luxury of time.

When it comes to time itself, I've been a rich woman this past month.  After passing through years like wildfire, I've been given the chance to slow down, re-evaluate, and breathe.  Museums, parks, historic sites - these are the fruits of my labor these days.  I walk away from the computer and I pick up the phone, I spend time with family and friends, and I reconnect with the physical world - the one that we never thought was a luxury until we started spending eight to twelve of our waking hours behind a screen, locked away in our corporate castles running circles against a clock. 

"The Pumpkin Seed" is a pumpkin cupcake with a molasses maple cream cheese buttercream that is topped with a homemade pumpkin seed brittle. I've always thought that what pumpkin evokes in autumn was the essence of time.  As a child I watched them grow all summer long over the stone wall of a farmhouse streetcorner in Connecticut.  I'd pass on an August day to find them sitting on chairs like little round old men, too heavy for their vines against the rock. And when the cold set in, one by one they would disappear, some breaking free and rolling down the street, and others finding their way to plates and porches across the town.

I always loved that quote that reminds us that one twenty-four hour period of childhood equals twenty of our adult days.  We lose a little bit of the ability to live deliberately and with intention when we grow up because there's always somewhere else to go.  I've gotten lost these past weeks, and I'm so thankful that I've had to time to do so.  Everybody has something to say about being early or being late.  But nobody can argue that when you're on time for doing absolutely nothing at all, you are exactly where you're supposed to be, and that is a gift.

Notes from the Field: Cupcake Americana

What makes a cupcake American?  Recently, my dear friend Cary Randolph Fuller and myself joined forces to answer this question and bring New York readers the chance to win a taste of what we like to think of as "The Great American Cupcake." 

The winner, Mariel of Preppy with Twist, received a dozen of these mini vanilla layercakes with raspberry filling and ruffled vanilla buttercream topped with handcut red and blue star sugar cookies. These little confections were designed with our nation's history in mind and the themes of individuality, diversity and freedom that comes from living in this great country. 

Talk about red, white and blue. 

Notes from the Field: Been up to my elbows...

I have been nonstop busy the past few days....

 

Giving friends a hand here and there...

And finding out that what they said was true...

New York City is QUITE the meat market.

 

Baby red velvet layer cakes drizzled with chocolate and topped with cream cheese buttercream and freshly sliced fingers.  

HAPPY HALLOWEEN.

Case Study 75: "The Salted Caramel"

 "Imperfection is beauty, 

madness is genius

and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous

than absolutely boring." 

-Marilyn Monroe

"The Salted Caramel" is a double vanilla cupcake topped with a salted caramel frosting and a sweet chocolate caramel crunchie disk on top.

 

In Italy, they have a saying "brutti ma buoni."  Ugly but good.  Sometimes the best things in life aren't the most obvious, the prettiest or the most perfect. Like these cupcakes, they might just be a gooey, sticky, sugary mess.  

Case Study 74: "The Lady Cake"

Last Friday, after a spin through the Guggenheim and the Upper East Side, I ducked into Bemelman's Bar for a quick cocktail.  As usual, it was dark and quiet, save for the Mia and Woody on the other side of the leather banquette, sharing the most Midsummer's Night Sex Comedy exchange about philosophies, dancers and how great the other person was.  I ordered a Sidecar, and Tommy, who's tended bar there for the past fifty-two years, whipped it right up, but not without a conversation first. 
 

"You are some lady, you are, ordering that drink," he said, and proceeded to tell me all about the Sidecar itself.  Cognac, Cointreau, Lemon.  It was a popular cocktail in the 50s and 60s, after the war, but the libation eventually went into hiding in lieu of more complicated mixologies.  I smiled, explaining how I've always been a fan of the classics, and after assuring him that his version was excellent, I got to thinking: about history, about class, and about being a lady.  

"The Lady Cake" is a miniature lemon chiffon layer cake, topped with a fluffy lemon buttercream.  From the outside it's light, fancy and whimsical, something truly dreamy and sweet.  But underneath it is sturdy and full of dimension, layer upon layer, building up to be one strong piece of cake. 

When I think about the women I admire most, relatives, icons, friends and my mother, what I find in common is a rare mixture of both dignity and courage. She is the one who balances the line of grace and attitude.  She is naturally private, always a step ahead, yet completely unafraid to elbow her way through to where she wants to go.  She is a gentlewoman among men.  She defies time and place.  But most of all, she has gumption.  

I walked out of The Carlyle that afternoon, back into the gray Manhattan light, and strolled through Central Park back downtown.  Across the terrace, along The Mall, and I smiled as I thought about one of my favorite quotes by Katherine Hepburn.  She said, "I have not lived as a woman. I have lived as a man. I've just done what I've damn well wanted to and I've made enough money to support myself and I ain't afraid of being alone."  That, my friends, is what it means to be a lady.